The Eye of the Storm
by Mirrordance
Summary: When Japan gets involved in a deadly virus outbreak, Kritiker's best team is sent to the United States of America to stem the disaster
1. Default Chapter

Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

Title: "Eye of the Storm (Ground Zero)"

Type: series, action

Warnings: violence, language

Spoliers: not much that I could think of

Teaser: When Japan gets involved in an unnatural virus outbreak, Kritiker's best team is sent to the United States of America to try and stem the disaster 

Keywords: Weiß, action

"Eye of the Storm"

Part 1

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

Centers for Disease Control

Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America

      Race Gardner felt like a stuffy idiot in his suit.  He found the elegant Cerruti a waste of money, but certainly not a waste of time.  Not simply because of the rewarding glances the women in the office were throwing his way, but mostly because… he had a reputation for recklessness (unfair, in his mind, especially since he was also an efficient worker).  And if an overpriced Cerruti would get the right ears to listen to what he had to say, an overpriced Cerruti was the way to go.

      "You can come inside now, Dr. Gardner," the middle-aged secretary told him with a half-smile.  

      "Thank you," he said, getting up from his chair and straightening his coat.  He picked up his suitcase and stepped into the well-kept office of Doctor Maya Carlton, his director.

      "Well, well," she said, a smile tugging at her stern yet beautiful face.  She leaned back in her chair and motioned for him to take the seat across from her.  "You're looking presentable.  The last time I've seen you this decent, you were pulling my leg so I would assign you to the West Africa incident"

      He grinned at her.  "There's nothing I like more in a woman than her brains, Maya.  Don't do that to me, because you're breaking my heart"

      She waved the issue away, well used to his tactics by now.  "Why are you here?"  
      He started to pull out papers from his suitcase, which she stopped by raising a hand.

      "I don't want to see paperwork, Race," she said tiredly, "Give me reasons"

      The argument was already prepared in his head.  "We have three cases of what looks to be similar strains of viral hemorrhagic fever reported in three different states in the span of two weeks"

      "Isolated cases," she said, "and no other reports have been made.  It couldn't be viral, much less an outbreak"

      "All of the people who have been infected are dead," said Race tightly, "by some strain that we haven't seen before.  I think that should be reason enough to investigate"  
      "We have investigated," said Maya, "in the past two weeks since the last report was made.  It's not a strain we've seen before, but that's not reason enough to cause mass hysteria, especially since nothing has been reported since"

      "All of the cases lived within a mile of a factory of Darell Pharmaceuticals," said Race, "I think that's something"

      "What are you suggesting?" Maya asked.

      "Close it down," said Race, "at least long enough for a proper investigation"

      "No!" said Maya indignantly, "Not reason enough! We're talking about a multi-million-dollar corporation! You're not the one who has to face Washington with this, Gardner.  We could be in for lawsuits, stock manipulation… the list goes on!"  
      "You won't shut it down," Race deduced.

      "Hell no!"  
      "That's all you needed to say," said Race with a slow smile.  It was what he had expected, after all.  "But I think you'll approve my next suggestion"  
      "What's that?" Maya asked.  Gardner was an exhausting person to spar with.

      "Let me investigate," said Race, "unofficially, if you're afraid to cause mass panic.  Put me on paid leave, or something.  I have a hunch, Maya.  When did I ever let you down?"

      Never.  But she didn't want to say it out loud.  He was overconfident enough as it was.  And besides, his last hunch earned them both commendations, and big, fat raises in their salaries.

      "You'd investigate even if I didn't give permission," she snapped.

      "Yes," he said shamelessly, "but I would rather get paid, and get the requisite passes and NOT get in jail"

      She sighed.  "All right.  I'll assign it to you.  But only for a week.  If you haven't gotten any results in a week, you go back here and I give you another assignment"

      "Two weeks," he bargained.

      "All right," she said.  It was no use to bother putting up a fight with him.  "Two weeks.  Results, Gardner. I want results"

      "And no restrictions on my manner of investigation," he added hastily, "including use of unofficial contacts"  
      "Fine," she said, "just don't get caught"

Exodus Laboratories

Tokyo, Japan

      He was a man of about sixty, give or take a few years, and no one ever really cared because his mind didn't seem to age.  And in Exodus Laboratories, hardly anything else mattered.

      His name was Dr. Izumida.  He acted like everyone's stern, loving father.  Except perhaps to his assistant, Satoru Ogawa, a hotheaded brilliant young man who helped him in all his undertakings and was feeling profoundly misused.

      "Please, doctor?" said Satoru, "I could do the enzyme test.  I've done it a hundred times before"

      "NOT with unidentified viruses, young doctor Ogawa," said the older man, frowning over his work.  "This is very strange"  
      Izumida looked over his notes, and the cultured specimen that he was studying, enclosed by glass in a biohazard container.  

      "However," he murmured, "I believe I have just the thing…"

      He grinned as he watched his solution work wonders on the virus sample.  

      "What happened?" Satoru asked eagerly, reverently.

      "A cure," Izumida said with a grin,  "Call our lady friend Manx, and tell her I have discovered a cure"

Koneko no Sumu Ie

      The shop above the basement was alive with voices and color and squeals and peals of laughter, though the world below was beyond the reaches of the sunlight.

      Down spiral steps into a mysterious underworld, Manx, a tall, beautiful woman in a blinding red suit a match to her hair, was standing in front of White Cross.

      They didn't seem to be so dark, here in their home.  Intimidating mission clothes were removed in favor of comfortable shirts and jeans.  They looked like four bachelors in one house, just as they were supposed to.

      "This mission is going to be different," she said, "I would only need one man, and I want it to be Fujimiya"  
      "What's he got that we don't?" Yoji asked, more curious than annoyed; it couldn't have had anything to do with skill, because he was long since assured of his own, and his other teammates'.

      "I'll start from the beginning," she said.

      "After rigorous schooling here in Japan," she said, "I had special training in covert operations in America for four years, to further my skills.  That's where I met Race Gardner, who became a very close friend of mine.  We parted at the end of those four years, I to work for Kritiker in Japan, and he to pursue a doctorate in biology, specializing in pathogens.  With his militaristic skills as well as brilliance in the scientific field, he was employed by the Centers for Disease Control in Georgia.  Race worked in various sectors that included Bioterrorism Preparedness and Response, as well as Research sectors of the organization.

      "Recently, three cases of similar and unidentified deaths have been reported in various states in America," continued Manx, "and he was assigned to investigate it.  Unofficially, because of complications within their government.  That's why he contacted me, after all these years.  Looked me up.  Since Kritiker has access to expansive laboratories.  He sent me tissue samples of all three victims, which one of our esteemed doctors identified as coming from the same, unidentified viral strand, and who also just recently came up with a cure.

      "The thing is," she said with a frown, "Dr. Izumida has confirmed that the strand is not known to be naturally occurring"  
      "Someone's making viruses?" asked Ken, eyes wide.  "That's crazy!"  
      "Race already has a suspect in mind," said Manx, "Recently, stocks to a company called Darell Pharmaceuticals have been plunging.  All victims lived in close proximity of their factories.  Either they have been violating safety requirements in disposing of their biohazard wastes… or they've been deliberately infecting people"

      "Why would they?" asked Yoji.

      "It's a relatively old trick," said Omi, "You infect people, let a few of them die.  Get the public in a panic.  Release an outbreak.  Then come out with a cure.  If they're the only company who has the cure, prices of their stock will rise, and they would definitely profit"

      "Exactly," nodded Manx, "that's why Dr. Izumida will need protection if anyone knows that he also has a cure and is intending to give it to the CDC for public use.  He is coming to America with a sample of it, and I want Ran to escort him to Atlanta and meet up with Race there.  According to Race, the U.S. Government via miscellaneous expenses of the CDC will be willing to reimburse us for the trouble"

      "It's pretty suspicious," said Omi, "Why won't your doctor friend Race Gardner come to legitimate sectors? I mean, surely his government cares for the welfare of its people and has its own means of protecting them?"  
      "Yes," conceded Manx, "but apart from the fact that I could readily vouch for his character, Race also explained that the big-shots in Washington won't let him openly investigate Darell in fears of a lawsuit, unless he could come up with more proof.  So he can't go near any legitimate body of authority without causing suspicion, not to mention hindering his investigation."  
      "So I'm going to America," said Ran flatly.

      "If you choose to accept the mission," she replied.

      "Which brings us back to the original question," said Yoji, "why just Ran?"

      "Because I think one man would be enough to protect the doctor, since no one else is supposed to know he has the cure," she replied, "Second, Ran is different enough from Race to get along with him perfectly well"

      Manx smiled slowly, "And lastly, I know Ran won't ask Race what we had between us"

Atlanta, Georgia

United States of America

      Ran was grateful to find Dr. Izumida as a quiet, if slightly eccentric professional.  He spoke pleasantly and only when he needed to, which was fine with the taciturn redhead.

      The two men sat side by side in first class, Ran declining the free wine all throughout the flight and the older man seemingly trying to drink enough for both of them.

      "Relax," Ran felt obliged to say, for the first time feeling ridiculous.  He supposed the older man didn't trust his safety with the hired assassin.

      "I'm going to be sick," Izumida said, running to the bathroom and even then, taking his briefcase with him.  The briefcase had been marked 'diplomatic goods' by Kritiker, so it was untouchable by customs.  It held the precious cure.

      Ran sighed, sinking to his cushioned seat.  So much for professional.  Though it was perfectly normal to be nervous.  Dr. Izumida was in grave danger, after all.  He never thought his first trip to America would be like this.

      The doctor arrived after awhile, looking pale and shaken but much more subdued now.

      After hours upon hours of flight, comfortable as it was, Ran was relieved to finally touch down on land, in San Francisco, where they made a brief stop before flying to Atlanta.  At last, Ran thought.  He was going to go crazy cooped up much longer, first class or no.

      The two men sailed through customs, no doubt through Kritiker's intervention again.  It was after all the papers had been settled and all their bags collected that the doctor said he wanted to go to the washroom.

      Izumida insisted on going alone, but Ran was adamant about his own position.  He was bodyguarding-- he won't let the old man out of his sight.

      Sighing in resignation, Izumida let Ran follow him around the vast airport; though it was nothing to Japan's own Kunsai.  

      Izumida led the way to the men's comfort room, Ran patiently guarding him still.  

      Izumida waited for the bathroom to empty.  Then, with all his might, he used his briefcase as a weapon.

      With inhuman strength that surprised even its wielder, Izumida struck the unsuspecting Ran over the head, causing him to collapse to the hard ground.

      "I'm sorry," Izumida said, dragging the body behind one of the stalls to hide it there and give him more time to escape.  He took the briefcase with him as he walked hastily out of the washroom, and out of the airport.

      Ran opened his eyes to a--thankfully-dimly-lit room.  From its sparse furnishing, he identified it easily as a hospital.  He wasn't alone.  In one corner, a man about a few years older than he, was standing by the window, looking out into the view of the city at night.

      He was tall and lean, clean-shaven and would have looked like an ideal model of an American yuppie, if he didn't look so… lethal.  Piercing green eyes were reflective as they stared out into the night.  His dark blonde hair curled at his nape, just above the collar of his polo shirt.  His hands were in the pockets of his navy slacks.

      Ran had no doubt that this was the Doctor Race Gardner of Manx's story.  He was more than handsome enough to be attractive to a woman of Manx's standards.  He was intelligent enough not to be daunted by her.  And he seemed successful enough not to be insecure of her accomplishments.

      Ran watched the aristocratic features form into a quick smile.  The face had a lot of laugh lines in them, which also made him seem somewhat accessible to people.

      "Through watching?" he asked.

      "Yes," Ran said shamelessly.

      Race laughed, stepping forward and shaking Ran's hand.  "Hanae is brilliant.  We'll get along, Fujimiya"

      "So you're saying the sixty-year-old man," said Race patiently, after debriefing Ran, "happened to hit a trained assassin over the head with a briefcase and run away"

      Ran scowled, feeling more embarrassed than anything.  "Yes.  Are you calling me a liar?"  
      No, but Race was thinking that he spoke too soon in saying they would get along.  But this was straightforward enough.

      "Actually," said Race thoughtfully, "before getting the story from you, I checked out the security cams.  Dr. Izumida wasn't kidnapped.  He left of his own accord.  I just wanted to make sure"

      "He left with the briefcase that contained the cure?" asked Ran, feeling a headache come along.  Or maybe, finally feeling the already-existing ache once the painkillers started to lose effect.

      "Naturally," said Race, "but he took nothing else with him.  His personal effects are in my custody"

      "Manx didn't say you were a cop," pointed out Ran.

      "No," said Race, "but I have the proper paperwork that says I can requisition anything I wanted.  And even if I didn't… I'm very, very good at what I do"

      Ran looked as if he didn't care, but for whatever it was worth, he didn't bother to question the seemingly capable man.

      "He could have gone to Darell Pharmaceuticals," Race muttered, "goddamn sell-out," he sighed, "but we don't know anything for sure yet.  And as long as that's the case, it's not safe to talk here, or in most places"

      Ran agreed silently to this assessment.  

      "Spend the night here in the hospital and get some rest," said Race, "you can check-out tomorrow morning and we can discuss our next move in a safer place."

      Race left the room, giving him a reassuring smile.  His door would be guarded tonight, Ran knew.

      But somehow, he still couldn't sleep or rest his mind.  He was the foreigner here, sick and alone, and in the middle of an intrigue he knew nothing about.

      The apartment was in the expensive part of the city, far enough from its heart to be peaceful, but not too far from his office so as to be inconvenient.  It was a corner building made of bricks, reminding him of Koneko, and across the street from a charming little coffee shop. 

      Ran looked around the interior.

      It was impossibly clean; Gardner was a cautious doctor, so there had to have been no doubt about that.  It was tastefully furnished in monochromes and designer articles, balanced by an explosion of color in select abstract paintings along the walls.  It was big and expensive-looking, but didn't look as if it were lived-in much…

      Ah.  Of course not.  His kitchen was the only place that came remotely close to chaotic--there were photographs pinned haphazardly on the refrigerator, of Race in different places from all over the world, and people he's met.  Ran counted seven photographs that included Manx there, before deciding to stop.

      "Want anything?" Race asked, "I can't cook, but I make a decent cup of coffee"  
      "No thanks," Ran said, following the older man who led him to one of three guest rooms-- he definitely had too much space, for a bachelor.

      "My mother used to come in on weekends," he said sheepishly, "now that she has grandchildren with my sister, she's forgotten about me.  And… ah… anytime I feel something big is coming with the CDC, I make all my relatives come over, just to be safe"

      Ran almost smirked.  Well.

      "So make yourself at home," said Race, "Rest up.  That had been a relatively serious concussion, you know.  I've contacted Manx and she's sending the rest of your team over, to sort out this mess"  
      Ran raised his eyebrows.  "They're coming?"  
      "Yup," affirmed Race, "You will be compensated, you know, though Manx says it doesn't matter.  White Hunters will fight the dark, even in the farthest corners, all that mumbo-jumbo"

      Yoji, Ken and Omi were awaited by Race and Ran, standing near customs.  They made a fetching picture, two urbane men seemingly set apart from the crowd.  Even in the thick of things and the bustling activity, one could see them right away.

      "You must be my rival for Manx's affections," said Yoji to Gardner playfully, extending his right hand out to shake the older man's.  Race smirked, and returned it just as happily.

      "Any developments?" Omi asked, looking at Ran closely and noting the extra-paleness of his already-too-white skin, just on the brink of recovery from his recent injuries  "You okay?"  
      Ran acknowledged his concern with a curt nod, touched but embarrassed.  "Nothing new has come"  
      "Then we'd better start this investigation," said Omi.

      The group was settling in Race's apartment (with Omi and Ken sharing the biggest room, while the three older men each had their own) when the phone rang and it was Race's boss, Maya Carlton.

      "There are two more reported cases," Race said with a grimace, after hanging up the receiver.  "We now have a case in Rhode Island, North Carolina, Texas and two more just now, in California.  My deadline has just been extended.  We're going official, now"

      Ken muttered a curse.  "Damn.  Five cases of the same strain?"  
      "Yes," said Race, "the same unnaturally occurring strain"  
      "So it's not an outbreak yet," pointed out Omi, "We still have time.  We catch the culprits and it's okay, there would be no other uncontrollable way to spread it after all, since it isn't airborne"

      "It's not an outbreak YET," said Race gravely, "let me give you a little background, Omi.  There are three kinds of flu: human, swine and avian.  Avian-- bird viruses-- is the worst of them, and thankfully couldn't be caught by humans, if the strain is pure.  The thing is, swine--pigs--are open to all three viruses, which means that once in awhile, when an Avian strain hits a pig, it can mutate within the host and hence be caught by humans. There are many ways a virus can mutate to adapt.  We have a very slim timeframe"

      "How long does it take to kill?" Yoji asked with a very justified frown.

      "All victims died within a period of four days from admittance," said Race, "we're looking at about an incubation period of about five days then, since it probably hit them before they went to the hospital, and a mortality rate of 100 percent"

      "How does it spread?" asked Ran.

      "That's just it," said Race, "No one knows.  It's not airborne, there is no proof that it was passed in the bloodstream, there is no proof of ingestion, there is no proof of, God help us, infection from human contact, or direct contact with infected fluids, no proof either of animal vectors.  We are completely lost on this"

      "Someone better find out soon," Omi said pointedly, "So none of the people the victims have come into contacted with were quarantined?"  
      "There was very little proof that it would be effective," Race growled, repeating the words that Maya said when he asked the exact same thing.

      "So if this IS airborne, we have people all across the continent carrying it," said Yoji disapprovingly, "I'm in the wrong damn country"

      "All the bodies will be shipped here in the morning," said Race, "The World Health Organization is on it, the United States Army, and the CDC.  Which means tomorrow will be one bloody hell of a power struggle.  But one of us will get to the bottom of this.  One way or another"

      "You're going to be there?" asked Ken.

      Race grimaced.  "Yeah"

      "And Izumida?" asked Yoji, "he presumably has a cure for all this.  Who's doing what about finding him?"

      "That's our job," Ran said.

      "You should take a break," Ken moaned as he turned over, half-asleep on the matress on the floor.  He thought it was a waste that he had yielded the real bed in the guest room to Omi, who wasn't using it anyway.  But he was too sleepy to say so, or bother moving.

      Omi ignored him, knowing he'd go back to sleep anyway.  Instead, he focused on his work, absorbed.  He looked at the computer screen, brows furrowed in matched concentration and frustration.

      So Izumida hits Ran over the head in this bathroom over here.  Leaves his bags in the ramp and heads straight outside, bearing only the suitcase where the cure supposedly is.  The security camera footage ends where he boards a cab.  The old doctor seemed nervous and edgy.  Any deception from someone inexperienced would justify that.  Ran said the doc had been a little nervous even in the plane.

      Which means… that IF the doctor did sell-out to someone, which was the most probable scenario, he had been contacted in Japan.

      Omi tapped on a few keys, zoomed in on the plates and registration numbers of the cab.  The Cool Ride Company would get a visit tomorrow.

      Before leaving for the laboratory where representatives of the CDC, WHO, and the U.S. Army would autopsy the bodies of the victims, Race gave them a set of keys to a rented car, a map, and a contact number.

      "See you around," he said cheerfully, hopping into his spiffy Chrysler.  Yoji suddenly had a longing for his Jalopy back home… More so when he glanced at the rented car, a serviceable black minivan.

      "Remember," Omi told Yoji seriously, "driving is different here, with the lanes and everything"  
      "I know the drill, mom," Yoji drawled, unlocking the door.  The car phone rang the moment he opened the driver's door, making him jump as if he were waiting for the damn thing to explode.  He muttered a curse as he placed the tiny Nokia to his ear.

      "Before going anywhere," said the synthesized voice, "Make sure you pick up a cup of Mocha Java over in Coffee Paradiso" Then it hung up on him.

      "That's weird," murmured Yoji, then looked across the street from Gardner's apartment.  The coffee shop was called Coffee Paradiso.

      "What was that?" Ken asked.

      Yoji slammed the door closed and locked it, stalking straight for the coffee shop.  "A damn endorsement, that's what"

      The coffee shop was empty that morning, save for the members of Weiß and three American women who were manning the shop.

      They looked like Amazons, behind that stylized counter.  Like… Manx.

      One minute with them guaranteed the Kritiker training behind the curled lashes and the sculpted faces.  

      "Mocha Java," Yoji said, brightening a little at this new prospect in his life.  He almost forgot about extending his charms across the ocean to America.

      The girl on the counter smirked at him, and he glanced down to look at her nametag.  She noted it with a laugh.  "That's not my real one"  
      "It's as good as any," said Yoji, "Hi Mabel, I'm Yoji Kudo.  What the hell do you want from us?"

      "Wait," said Omi, "Is it safe to talk here?"  
      "As safe as the Koneko," one of the girls, Janine, replied with a challenging gleam in her eye.

      Ran's eyes narrowed in irritation.  How could these Americans know about them while Weiß never even knew they existed? Kritiker is one hell of a secretive organization, but how come some know about other Kritiker groups while the rest, like Weiß, are kept in the dark?

      The last girl, whose tag said her name was Cass, motioned for everyone to sit in a round table as Mabel rounded up seven Mocha Javas and Janine flipped the sign by the door to 'Closed.'

      "We know about you," explained Janine, whom Yoji had already pegged as Amazon leader/spokeswoman, "Because we work for the Intelligence branch of Kritiker.  The organization has branches all over this country, and in other countries too.  After all, to protect Japan, we have to look at the wider picture"

      "You know," said Mabel, handing out mugs of coffee, "Expatriates and exiles and outpouring and incoming criminals, international terrorists… Kritiker spread from Japan to go global about eleven years ago"

      Ran looked suspiciously at the coffee.  No one touched anything until Janine rolled back her eyes and mixed the mugs around, making it random.

      "Most of the international branches of Kritiker are Intelligence agencies," added Cass, "We don't have assassin groups here because we don't have jurisdiction in this land.  But we like to keep our eyes open"  
      "The situation is different now," said Janine, "Dr. Izumida directly involves Japan, and the organization too.  That makes it Kritiker's job to control the problem.  That's why you've been sent in.  Kritiker's best in the field, so to speak, since we don't have 'commandos' of our own"

      "Manx told us to help you in any way," said Cass, "Whatever you need, we can requisition"

      A silence hung in the air, as the members of Weiß digested this new information.  The Americans seemed to be so much more uncomfortable with the quietness.  

      "You're Americans," pointed out Ran, "Why are your loyalties to the cause of Japan?"  
      "The money's good," snapped Janine, genuinely offended, "Oh! And incidentally, we work to uphold justice too"

      Yoji laughed at the girl's audacity and Ran's frown.  He raised up his coffee cup in salute, and took a gratifying sip.

      Coffee Paradiso had a basement too.

      "We're stationed here," Cass was saying as she led the group down the annoyingly nostalgic spiral steps, "specifically to keep an eye on Race Gardner.  You must have noticed… this place isn't exactly the heart of the city"

      "He's a threat?!" exclaimed Ken.

      "Only in a manner of speaking," Mabel replied, "He has a lot of connections to a lot of organizations, including our own, so we make sure he doesn't tell anyone about it.  After years here though, it's a pretty useless post because Gardner is almost always not home"

      "He's a pretty straight arrow," added Cass, "You're in good hands with him"

      The group reached the bottom, and someone snapped open a switch that had lights opening in the relatively spacious basement.  It looked so much like their own that it gave Ken chills.

      There were four packages of various shapes on the couch, which the women motioned for.

      It was labeled "Diplomatic Goods" also.

      Ken tore up the package that was addressed to him.

      His bugnuks.

      The others found their weapons from home too, except for Omi who found a few techno-gizmo- extras in his box.

      Kritiker really did mean business (and it certainly isn't going to be very diplomatic).

      The black minivan stopped in front of an aging building, with gruff-looking men pouring out of the doors, looking at them strangely.

      Omi passed around some communication earpieces and asked everyone to test it out.  After assuring that they were in good working condition, he shifted in his seat and looked at Ran in an unconscious sign of trust and dependence.

      "Yoji, stay in the car," Ran said, "If whoever drove that cab is an accomplice, we could need a quick getaway.  Ken with him, Omi with me"

      He unlocked the door and hopped out, heading straight for the building entrance, with Omi trailing along, bearing his laptop.  Ran's dark clothes well-concealed the katana hidden in the folds of his jacket, and he moved fluidly without a hindrance from it.

      Ken looked at Yoji wryly, who had a resigned expression on his face. 

      "Did that just happen or what?" chuckled Ken, "He moves so fast I can hardly see him anymore"

      The Cool Ride Company, reflected Omi, had a pathetic set of ill-kept records.

      But he found he could rely on the secretary--the sole woman in the establishment, who had a pretty solid memory of a three-day-old event.

      Omi gave her the plate number from a clip he had pulled from the video coverage, as well as the time it was taken, and the slightly-distorted zoom of the face of the driver.

      "That shift belongs to Cooper," she told him, "Wolfgang Cooper.  As in Mozart? You boys ever heard of that?"

      "We know Mozart," Omi said in consternation, to speed her along.

      "Yeah well," she continued, "I know that shift belongs to him.  Not only am I sure he drove the man you're looking for because of that, he came back here and told me about it too"  
      "Told you what?" prodded Ran.

      "That he just drove this Chinese guy to this motel on the edge of town," she replied, "Said the old man looked sick, as if he was about to, like, keel over and die or some shit like that.  Wolfie just left him alone when he was told to put a lid on it, though.  So that's all I know.

      "By the way," she said in delayed suspicion, "Why'd you say you were looking for this guy again? He your uncle or something? No offense or anything, but you Chinese folk all kinda look alike--"

      "We're Japanese," said Omi darkly, genuinely, genuinely annoyed, "And by the way, lady--"  
      "MY uncle," said Ran, looking for a graceful save as he tugged at Omi's elbow.  "He's my uncle.  Thank you for the information.  Do you, by chance, have Cooper's contact number or address?"  
      

      After tracking the man down, Weiß found that their stories were straight.  If there was a conspiracy here, it wasn't apparent to their expert-eyes.

      The two witnesses said practically the same thing.  The only additional information Cooper was able to provide, was the name of the motel he had driven Dr. Izumida to.

      It was in the middle of a two-hour drive that Race Gardner called them on the car phone.  By that time, the city had vanished into a wide road with trees and fields lining it, vast and empty-looking.  Omi turned on the speaker.

      "I've checked out the bodies," Race said.

      "How bad is it?" Omi asked, hearing the helplessness in the older man's voice.

      "It's a kind of hemorrhagic fever, all right," came the reply, "It's like they swallowed a working blender in there.  God, what a mess"  
      "Is it contained?" asked Ran.

      "Yes, thank God," answered Race, "no more reports have been made in the past hours.  The researchers have all declared that the virus isn't naturally occurring too.  All the victims live within a mile of a Darrell Pharmaceuticals lab, so the place is crawling with investigators now, closing it down 'til this blows over.  In the meantime, we're still looking for the cause of infection"  
      "We got somewhere too," Omi said, "We have a lead on the missing doctor"

      "Great," said Race, "Listen, I have to go.  We're opening a new corpse now.  God, does that sound horrible or what? I can't believe I'm doing this for a living.  Out."

      Omi sighed.  "Well.  Five cases, nothing new.  What do you think?"  
      "I think it's too soon to be relieved," said Yoji, keeping his eyes on the road.  "Damn bastards.  Who could be spreading this?"  
      "I'll look up Darrell Pharmaceuticals," said Omi, "I think there's more to this case then meets the eye"

      Yoji stopped the car in the near-empty parking lot of a small motel.  It was almost lunchtime by the time they arrived at Good Times Motel.

      Ken smirked at the name, but let it go at that.  There weren't much people around.  He doubted times were as good here in the day as they were in the night…

      "We're going down to ask," said Ran.

      "I'm definitely coming this time," argued Yoji, "I've been in that car way too long.  My butt hurts"  
      "We'll stay," offered Ken, looking at Omi who was preoccupied with the laptop and the research he has drawn up.

      "Old drill," reminded Ran, "If he asked to be delivered here, then we could very well be going into hostile environment.  Keep the lines clean"

      "You got it, boss," Omi said distractedly as he scrolled down his research and the two older men walked off.  

      Ken looked at the screen for a few moments, until he couldn't stand what he was looking at and not understanding anymore.

      "What am I looking at?" he asked.

      "Stocks," Omi replied, "winners, losers, prices, buyers, sellers.  Darrell is a definite loser in this round.  Stock prices are plummeting.  And, from what I've been looking at for the past hour, it's been falling for a long time now"  
      "So if they had the cure to a disease they released themselves," said Ken, "They'd profit real good, right?"  
      "Right," said Omi, "But the situation is too blunt for my taste.  It's like shoving a suspect in your face.  There could be more to this"

      "So how are their stocks selling?" asked Ken.

      "Not very well, predictably," said Omi, "The situation of their closure, all that.  No one wants to be in the sinking boat--"  
      The car phone rang.

      Ken reached over and put it in speaker mode.  "Yup?"  
      It was Race.

      "Seven more cases were reported just now," said Race, "They're all in one area, in Boston.  They're still alive, but it isn't looking good"  
      Ken muttered a curse.  "Shit.  What are you doing now?"  
      "I'm flying over there to investigate," said Race, "If you need anything, you know how to contact me.  Who the fuck is doing this? People are dying.  Innocent people"  
      "We'll find our doctor, Gardner," said Ken determinedly, "and then we'll have your cure"


	2. Eye of the Storm 2

Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

Title: "Eye of the Storm (Ground Zero)"

Type: series, action

Warnings: violence, language

Spoliers: not much that I could think of

Teaser: When Japan gets involved in an unnatural virus outbreak, Kritiker's best team is sent to the United States of America to try and stem the disaster 

Keywords: Weiß, action

"Eye of the Storm"

Part 2

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

      Ran flanked Yoji, who headed straight for the desk, where a lady was looking at them in avid interest.

      Old trick, Ran figured, for the blond to charm his way into some useful information.  The flirtatious opening, the sexual double-meanings, and eventually the useful stuff.

      Eventually.

      It took Yoji three minutes.  Ran counted because he couldn't help but keep glancing at his watch.

      The woman handed them keys to a room.

      "Come on," Yoji said in a low voice, "She says the man checked in three days ago, right after he had arrived from the cab.  He paid her a big advance, then has not been out of his room since.  She says he doesn't ask for anything, just in the beginning when he said he didn't want to be disturbed.  And uh… she said she passes by that door all the time and uh… doesn't smell a body"

      Ran nodded, and the two men walked briskly, following the number of the room, and the directions the woman had provided.

      "By the way," added Yoji, "I told her the guy's my dad, so she gave me the keys.  Just so you know, in case she asks you or something"

      Ran's uncle, Yoji's dad.  This was getting more and more colorful.

      They opened the door with extreme caution.

      An inhuman exclamation was sounded, seemingly from the bottom of the very pits of hell.  The creature that stood before them looked as if it came from there, all right.

      It was bipedal, tall and muscular, tainted a shade between black and green.  The eyes were wide and a glowing yellow.  It was somewhat scaled, had claws and sharp teeth on a wide head.  It was wearing clothes that tattered at the edges from his big size.

      Yoji could distinctly feel Ran frozen beside him, looking at the creature that seemed just as afraid of them.  

      With a growl, the creature made a lunge straight for the window, shattering glass and plummeting to the ground below.

      "Shit!" Yoji muttered, dashing towards the window and looking gown.  The creature was nowhere to be found.  He looked past the parking lot below, into the horizon.  The motel was built next to a forest, not surprising since they were out of the city and nearer to the country here.

      "Shit, shit, shit!"  
      Yoji whipped around to look at what Ran was doing.  The redhead was standing where the creature had, in front of a long, low cabinet.  There were vials there, and tubes and improvised gear that looked scientific.  A mini-microscope that could be purchased in a toy store too.  In their shock at seeing a… a… monster, they hadn't even noticed what it was doing.

      "Is this for real or what?" whispered Yoji, "We have a freaking monster-doctor"

      The two men turned at the sound of running.  Ken, Omi and the motel owner appeared in a quick succession by the door.

      "What have you done?!" the lady exclaimed hysterically.

      Ran looked to Yoji for an answer.

      The blonde grinned and shrugged.  "Domestic problem"

      "Cass?" Omi called to the American Kritiker agent over the phone.

      "Yup?"  
      "I want you to send me everything you can round up about Darrell Pharmaceuticals," said Omi, shifting on the bed inside what had been Dr. Izumida's room.  Weiß were camping in.  "I've got some stuff," he continued, "But since you're I and R, I think you'll be so much better at it than I am"  
      "You got it," she said.  Omi could hear her rapping at a keyboard.  

      "Thanks," he said as he hung up, and started to download the information.  As he waited, he used the number Race had left them with.

      It took him seven rings before answering.

      "What?" Race asked, sounding annoyed and tired.

      "I'm sitting in Dr. Izumida's hotel room," said Omi, "There's no Doctor Izumida, and you won't believe what we found in his place"

      "Is the cure there?"  
      "We have no idea what the hell is here"  
      "I'm flying over"

      Ran squinted against the sun, shading his eyes.

      He, Yoji, Ken and a local ranger made their way across the forest, looking for the monster.  The ranger was a man with financial troubles, and was all-too-pleased to yield to the desires of three Japanese tourists looking for some adventure for a decent price.

      Briggs headed the troupe, finding no need for a map for he knew the place 'like the back of his hand.'  The three men followed him cautiously as he ratted on about local history and bears and wolves, weapons concealed but at the ready.

      The last monster they had dealt with was an engineered version of one of the Takatoris.  That had been hellish, to say the least.  A tentacled, big mass of disgusting sewer green.  Ran had a profound distaste for biological tampering.  First with the Takatori's mutations, and now this virus…

      "How long'll you boys be gracin' our community?" asked Briggs.

      "We're not sure, really," Yoji replied distractedly, looking around for any sign of movement.  "There's a whole lot of America to see"  
      They surveyed the forest 'til the sun set, at which time their guide said he would have to take them back; even the most experienced can get lost after dark.

      They found no doctor, nor the monster that seemed to have taken his place.

      The plastic that covered the shattered window, however, was screaming proof that the monster did exist, and had escaped.  The scientific mumbo-jumbo on the cabinet was proof that the monster had to have had at least some knowledge of science.

      Race examined it cautiously, with gloves and some other protective gear.

      "Well," he said, tearing of his gloves and found it safe enough to throw in the room's garbage bag, "He was definitely working on big stuff.  The gear's improvised, but works perfectly.  He was setting up for some cultured samples.  He left two, actually.  I'm going to need a better microscope than his little toy, but I have a feeling I'm looking at human hybrid cells"  
      "So we did see a monster," Yoji said with relief.

      "So Izumida didn't sell out," murmured Omi, "he's here, he's a mutant"  
      "But where's the cure?" pointed out Ken, throwing open some cabinets; it was done more out of frustration than search, because it has been done hours before, fruitlessly.

      "This is getting screwier and screwier," muttered Race, sitting on the bed.  "The seven cases have it all right.  Same strain as the others"  
      "Anyone else looking for a cure?" asked Ken, "In case we don't find the good doctor monster guy?"

      "Of course," Race replied, "but without much success.  Izumida had a huge head-start.  The others have to secure samples, take them to the proper labs, legitimate search for cures have to have papers and wages and legalization blah-blah's, map out a sequence, find out how to kill it… we're looking at a pretty long time, here.  Much, much more than four days"  
      And four days were all the seven people had left.

      "Any connection between the victims?" asked Yoji.

      "None that we can find," said Race, "save for the relative closeness to a Darrell lab.  I'll give you the names, so you can go have a look yourselves"  
      "Thanks," said Omi, studying what Cass had sent in.  There were twenty-five branches of Darrell in America, spread out evenly.  It was an old company that had recently expanded, too quickly, in Omi's opinion, which was justified enough in light of the company's losses.

      Darrell Pharmaceuticals used to be a promising group, associated with a certain Panorama Industries until the deal went sour and both execs walked away from it, Darrell on top.  Now, years after that, Panorama was nowhere, and Darrell plunging in the markets.

      The strange thing was… dying as the company was, someone WAS buying up Darrell stock.  Of course, this can be attributed to opportunists who are buying up controlling shares, then hoping the value will rise again someday, and what they bought cheap they could sell at a higher price.

      Omi frowned, looked up who was buying the stock and found… ghost accounts.  Names in banks that all belong to one man…

      "Don't you look serious," Ken told him lightly, then shushed when Omi told him to.  No one wants to interrupt a frustrated genius…

      That one man was Panorama Industries' old chief executive officer, Michael Madden.  Panorama hadn't died, Omi found out.  It changed its name to One World Industries, and became a conglomerate.  Which meant it was a group made up of various companies, ranging on the eclectic.  But One World, while extremely successful, is known for tainted acquisition programs-- basically, that they have been accused of stock manipulation, and hostile takeovers of companies.

      Madden knew how to play the game.  First, he unleashes a virus to frame up Darrell Pharmaceuticals.  The company closes down, sells out stocks at a cheap price.  He buys controlling shares and eventually owns the entire company.  He resurrects it with a cure.

      So, if all goes as he planed, he has his revenge, he has the company, he has the cure, eventually the money and the recognition.  The plan had been elegant, and nearly perfect.

      The only flaw, was that he has now been found out.  

      "So," asked Ken, after Omi told them of what he had discovered, "Where does Dr. Izumida fit into all this?"  
      "I don't know," Omi admitted, "What I do know, is that Madden is out there, infecting people.  We may not have the cure yet, but we can prevent anyone else from being infected"  
      Ran mulled it over.  "Where the hell is Madden?"  
      "In his palace over in Beverly Hills," Omi said.

      "Wait, wait," Race said, suddenly remembering that he was in a room with TRAINED ASSASSINS.  "I'm finally getting the thread of this conversation," he lowered his voice in a panic, "You're actually going to kill the guy?!"  
      "That's what we do," Ran said pointedly.

      "I'm not going to stand by and let you!" snapped Race, voice still ridiculously lowered, "Damn it, we're going for legitimate stuff now, not, not… poetic justice!"  
      "It depends on how cooperative he will be," decided Ran, "We won't kill him outright, that's not how we work.  Answers first"

      Race sighed.  "Shit."

      His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket and excused himself.

      He came back looking grim.  "Three more cases.  In Hawaii, this time.  I have to go there"

      Ran nodded and turned to Omi.  "I want you with me in Beverly Hills.  We're going to get answers from Madden.  Ken and Yoji, stay here and look for Doctor Izumida"

      Another phone call.

      "Cass?" asked Omi, settling himself on the seat of the airplane, just before taking off.  "I need to get in contact with Michael Madden"

      "That's a tall order, buddy"

      "What? Can't do it?"  
      "No, I just want you to remember it's tough, and I could"

      Dawn was just breaking, when Ken and Yoji ventured into the forest in cautious steps.  Ken's weapons were raised and ready, backing up Yoji, whose hands were full.

      With a tray filled with food.

      "Breakfast of champions," he declared boldly earlier that day, after rousing their host to come up with deliciously lethal set of bacon, eggs, sausages and whatever else they could find.

      The mood then had still been light.  But here in this forest… everything changes.  They had been here just yesterday and yet nothing was familiar.  Fog seemed to come out of everywhere, obscuring their view after three feet.  The trees looked like ghosts and shadows.

      "Tell me," Ken said through grit teeth, "What the hell we're doing here again"

      "Courting," Yoji said softly.

      "And why just now?"  
      "The idea just came to me," said Yoji, "that the doctor must be famished after a night out here"  
      They walked for awhile in silence, before Ken paused to regard their environment.  

      "What?" Yoji asked, wondering what the brunette could have sensed.

      "Nothing," Ken said, "It just occurred to me that we shouldn't go too far.  We don't know the way back"

      "…Good point"  
      "Yoji…"  
      "When we find Izumida," said Yoji, "He'll get us out"  
      "Maybe he's as lost as we are--"

      A sudden movement, just beneath their line of vision.

      "Shit!" exclaimed Ken, falling to a ready stance, as Yoji lowered the tray cautiously to the ground and did the same.

      --

      "Dr. Izumida?" Ken called out warily.

      But it wasn't.  A roar made him turn quickly toward the sound, and a paw came out of the fog to lash out at his back, sending him tumbling forward and colliding against a tree.

      Yoji turned too, to look straight at a rampaging bear.

      "Ken?" he called out, but the soccer player was still seeing stars.  Besides, one couldn't outrun a bear…

      "Stupid plan," he muttered, not doubting the fact that the bear had been attracted by the food.  He wished he had thought about Briggs and his wolves and bears from yesterday, before coming up with this shit of an idea.

      So what do all the survival guides say? Pretend you're dead and… hope for the best.  That's what they say in National Geographic and Discovery Channel.  That's what it says in Aesop's Fables too.

      Muttering a curse, he slowly sank to the ground and lain there, shutting his eyes close, never thinking in a million years that this would be the horrid way he would die--

      He felt the weight of the bear, coming, coming, coming… he fancied he could feel its warm breath too, though that could have been his imagination, for the next thing he knew, he heard the bear roaring in the near distance--NOT, thankfully, on his face.

      He opened one eye, then another.  He raised his head and stared in wonder as the monster doctor fought against the bear, easily.  The first idea that crossed Yoji's mind was that he should take Ken and run for their lives; these were two predators fighting over a meal (and he wasn't just thinking about the food on the tray).  But even if the monster was more animal than human, Yoji decided to hold his ground.  They had a mission.

      The bear was downed without much trouble, and eventually just quit and ran away.  The monster focused glowing eyes on Yoji.

      "You all right?" asked the gruff voice.

      "Yeah," replied Yoji, pushing himself up and moving towards Ken, who was conscious but confused, slumped against the tree.  "You okay, Kenken?"  
      He blinked a few times, focusing on Yoji's face, catching his breath.  "Give me a minute"

      Yoji nodded, and looked at the doctor, who was staring at the meal.  

      "That wasn't very smart of you," the doctor commented.

      "We got to you, didn't we?" Yoji asked with an insufferable grin, "thought you might be hungry, doc"

      The three men sat in a loose triangle, as the monster doctor wolfed down on breakfast.

      Ken and Yoji politely waited for him to finish before they began their questioning.

      "Ah…" the doctor said with satisfaction, looking even more frightening when he actually grinned at them.  

      "Would you mind telling us," Ken said, rubbing at his sore back, "What the hell happened to you?"  
      Did those golden eyes dim, for just a moment? 

      "I started to have strange symptoms in the airplane," he replied, "I thought I was just sick.  Then I started seeing… the scales"

      "Why'd you hurt Ran?" asked Yoji.

      "I was afraid," the doctor admitted.

      Yoji's eyes narrowed, understood.  A scientific mind, of course, would fear what would be done to HIM if he were suddenly an object of scientific interest.  No doubt of it, the doctor must have had swirling thoughts of, of being dissected or some such thing.

      "And the thing was," said the doctor, "I had the cure for the virus, right? So it hadn't been that hard to come up with a vaccine.  I injected myself with the vaccine before leaving, knowing I would be exposing myself to danger.  Then the scales started to come.  I thought maybe my cure has that side effect.  So I was a mutant, without a cure.  I had to run away, at least, until I could find the answers"

      "So was it?" asked Yoji.

      "Was it what?"  
      "Was mutation the side effect?" asked Yoji.

      "That was what I had been trying to investigate," said Izumida, "I was testing my cells in that God-forsaken microscope, when you came along.  But I was also starting to look at the possibility of… sabotage"

      "By whom?" asked Ken.

      "I don't know"

      Yoji nodded, assimilating this.  "So where's the briefcase? The one where the supposed cure is?"  
      "I hid it," replied Izumida, "So no one could steal it, and so no one can get exposed to it, if indeed it were a mutagen"

      "More cases have just been reported," said Yoji, "We don't have much time.  If we can get you access to a lab… how long would it take you to investigate and re-create a cure?"  
      "Two days, no more," Izumida guaranteed boldly.

      Yoji nodded, and dialed Race Gardner's number.

      Yoji's face appeared on the screen of the computer.

      "What are you wearing?" Omi asked, eyes wide as he looked at Yoji, wearing a white coat, with the background as a laboratory.  A… monster was working there too.

      "We have Dr. Izumida," Yoji reported, "I called Race, asked him how much he's in charge of this disaster, and told him I needed a lab.  He gave me a portable one, communications gizmo included.  Of course, I had to pretend I was some brilliant Japanese doctor, so he would have justification of leaving this to me.  We're still near the motel; we couldn't really take Dr. Jeckyll very far"

      "I heard that"

      "I'll explain at length later," said Yoji, grinning at the monster, "How are you guys doing from that end?"  
      Yoji looked at where Omi was; the kid was dressed in an elegant tuxedo, sitting in what looked to be a hotel suite.

      "Cass got us contact," Omi replied, "As of today, while you're over there playing doctor, we're over here playing…Takatori"  
      "What do you mean?"  
      Omi winced.  "The only way we could get into the Inner Circle of High Society out here, is to be powerful and rich.  So we rigged the records, had the rumor mill going, that the only surviving Takatori is inheriting everything, and going to pick up where father left off"  
      Yoji looked intensely at the younger man's face.  Deprived of his memories, Omi had discovered that he was part of the evil dynasty that was ruling Japan's underworld.  He had to kill his own brothers.  That had been hard enough, to turn away from blood.  And now here he was, claiming it again for a mission.

      "Are you okay?" Yoji asked.

      "Yeah," Omi replied, "I just want to get this over with"

      "Where's Ran?"  
      "He's playing my personal bodyguard," Omi answered, "He's outside, making the final arrangements.  Where's Ken?"  
      Yoji chuckled.  "He hates me, but understands.  Ol' Clumsy will NOT get within a meter of a glass test tube with an incurable virus in it, if you know what I mean"

      "Yeah," Omi laughed, "Well, I have to go.  Wish us luck tonight"

      Ken kicked at a stone, miserably strolling in a nearby park with his hands in his pockets.

      Of course he understood why Yoji wanted him OUT of that lab-- but he didn't have to like it.  Around the shop, he had always been the one to break things, spill 'em, drop 'em.  It's surprising how he never screws up that way in missions, or in a soccer field.

      Jutting his chin up at some internal encouragement, he told himself, that he's good wherever it matters most.

      A soccer ball came flying his way, and more in instinct than anything, he took control of it with his head, bounced it twice, lowered it to his knees, then to the ground.  A bunch of kids were watching him, running after their ball, looking fascinated.

      "How'd you manage that?" one of the boys asked him boldly.

      Ken grinned and answered.

      He's good wherever it matters most…

Beverly Hills, California

      "Ready?" Ran asked him, before the they stepped out of the limousine.

      "As ever," Omi breathed, with a slight smile to assure the older man, "Let's just do this"

      "Good luck," Mabel said, giving them a wink from the driver's seat, where she sat, wearing a chauffeur's uniform.

      The limo stopped by the wide rotunda of the big white mansion where Michael Madden was having a luncheon party.  Even from outside, Omi could see the expensive cars lined along the landscaped gardens, and glamorously dressed people coming in and out of the house.  From outside the gates of the estate, Omi noted the society photographers who snapped pictures of the Inner Circle.

      "Here we go," Omi said as Ran opened the door and stepped out first, then flanked Omi as he strolled down the red carpet to the door, holding onto his invitation.

      The doorman greeted Omi warmly, and nodded warily to Ran, as the two Japanese men walked coolly across the lobby following the long red carpet down to the ballroom where everyone was.

      Omi's eyes scanned the room for their host, and found the well-built, middle-aged man laughing amongst friends.  Madden emanated raw power in his voice, his stance.  Omi's eyes cooled, even as his blood burned.  He had a ruthless side too.

      Madden met his gaze, and excused himself from his party, making his way toward the young man.

      "Ah…" said Madden, "Mamoru Takatori"

      "Yes," nodded Omi, "Mr. Madden"

      "It's Mick to my friends," said the older man, putting a hand on Omi's shoulder and ushering him forward to the thickening crowd, "Because of my bonds with your late father, that courtesy is extended to you"

      "I accept it," Omi said, "I'm young, Mick.  But I'm a man of vision.  Once my inheritance of all the Takatori assets is well-founded, I plan to expand it to heights even my father never imagined"

      "Of course," agreed Mick, "I think I have the proposition for you, my friend.  But not tonight.  Pleasure must always come first, before anything else"

      Omi's eyes narrowed in irritation.  Ran fondly thought that Omi was playing the spoiled child extremely well.

      "I've not much time for such trivialities," he said.

      Madden's brow rose.  There was a distinct tension in the air, of two stubborn men vying for what they want.

      Madden was the one who gave in.  Takatori was a valuable investor, and he would need all the friends in high places internationally, for when he springs his big cure on the market.

      "Very well," he said, "to my office, then?"

      "Yes," agreed Omi, following the host.  Ran tailed them both indiscreetly.

      "You alone," Madden said, looking pointedly at Ran.

      "He is my bodyguard," said Omi, "You do not have anything to worry about"

      "Alone," Madden insisted.

      "Very well," Omi said, deciding he should be the one to give in this time.  It made Ran stiffen, but so as not to cause suspicion, followed Omi's orders to await his return.

      The door of the study closed.

      Omi scanned the room.  It was obviously the most private of Madden's quarters.  It really was his main office, then, predictably.  A businessman of Madden's sort knew he had to butter up the possible clientele, and gave Mamoru Takatori the absolute best.

      And, being the most private of quarters, it also would mean that the room would not be bugged.

      Perfect.

      Omi brought out a dart from his sleeve, and released it against Madden's arm.  Mick had but a moment of surprise before he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

      Keeping calm, Omi headed for Mick's computer and started to access the security files, finding out which place was guarded and by how many men.  Then he rigged the security cameras into a fifteen-minute loop, to give him and Ran time to escape with Madden.

      "We're clean," Omi said into the hidden communication link on his collar to Ran.  Within a minute, Ran stepped into the room and looked at the fallen Madden.

      "Tell Mabel to be there the moment we're out the secret exit," Ran said, studying the layout of the house in the computer, which matched the one Cass had sent them before they planned the mission.

      Omi did so, then grinned at Ran.  "Wow.  We have ten minutes to spare.  Piece of cake"

Atlanta, Georgia

      Ken laughed as the kids tried vainly to copy what he had just done with the soccer on his head.

      "Look at what you're doing!" he advised with a grin, "keep your eye on the ball, not too much, not too much! You'll break your nose that way--"

      The ball rolled away, and the entire group of kids ran off after it, each one wanting to be the first.  Ken remained where he stood, waiting for them to get the ball and come back.  But his eyes narrowed cautiously as the group paused in the near distance.

      "Hey!" he called, "what's going on?"  
      They turned to him and motioned for him to come over.  Ken jogged towards where they stopped, and found a man lying on a park bench half-obscured by overgrown trees, with his back to them.

      "Back up, back up," he told the kids.  Ken figured the man had to be some kind of a bum, if he was just sleeping here like that.  Ken sighed and headed for the ball, which had rolled under the bench.

      His fingers had just brushed it when the man on the bench grabbed him by the shoulder.  Ken held his breath at the grotesque sight.

      "Help me…" the man said.

      Ken could not get his stare away from the man's face.  There were patches of red and purple there, as if he was bleeding inside, though there were also tracks of blood from his eyes, nose, ears and the corners of his mouth.

      "Help me…" the man begged.

      The man's grasp on his shoulder dug as its owner's desperation grew.  The warmth of his flesh burned through the fabric of Ken's clothes.  In that instant, he knew the virus had hit Atlanta.

      "Kids…" Ken said cautiously, "Back up, okay? Go home.  I'll take care of the sick man"

      "But my soccer ball--"

      "You don't want to get sick, do you?" Ken said, "Come on.  Go home.  It's okay"

      He breathed relief when he heard them scamper off.  Ken looked at the man's face.  "What happened to you, sir?"  
      "I don't know," the man croaked, then started to cough.  Ken was suddenly acutely aware that he could be next, but the man's grip was tight and unyielding.

      "Shh," Ken said, "I'll get help, okay? I'll get help"

      With shaking hands, Ken pressed for his communication link with Yoji.

      "Yup?" replied the blonde.

      "Yoj…" Ken said, "Call for an ambulance, will you? And go for those who know the precautions in handling a hemorrhagic fever"

      "What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?"  
      Ken winced, almost laughed at the scold.  "You know those pictures of victims we've been seeing? I'm face to face with the real thing right now"

      "Ken…"  
      "I'm fine," said Ken, "it's not airborne, right? I'm okay.  But this man isn't.  Hurry up, Yoj.  He's real sick"

      Yoji arrived in the scene just as the paramedics he had sent in did.  What was different was that the paramedics were wearing biohazard suits, and that no one would let him get close to Ken.

      "What the hell--?" Yoji asked.

      "Just a precaution, sir," he was told.

      "Ken!" he called out, when he saw his friend being loaded in a separate ambulance.  Ken waved and grinned, before the doors were sealed.  The paramedics left, but some crew remained to seal up the area.  Yoji watched the unfolding events with a bad sense of foreboding.

      His phone rang, and he answered it.

      "Race," he said, recognizing the number.

      "Bad news," said Gardner, "Yoji, the virus in Hawaii… there's no connection to a Darrel lab at all.  It's gone airborne"

      Yoji's fingers numbed, and the phone fell to the floor, as he remembered Ken's smiling face.


	3. Eye of the Storm 3

Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

Title: Eye of the Storm ("Ground Zero")

Type: series, action

Warnings: violence, language

Spoliers: not much that I could think of

Teaser: When Japan gets involved in an unnatural virus outbreak, Kritiker's best team is sent to the United States of America to try and stem the disaster 

Keywords: Weiß, action

"Eye of the Storm"

Part 3

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

Beverly Hills, California

      Michael Madden's eyes opened slowly to an expensive-looking, contemporarily-designed apartment.

      "Hi," Omi greeted him.

      "You…" Michael seethed, wanting to wring the boy's neck, only to find that he was bound to a chair.

      "Yes," Omi grinned, "Me.  But we'll discuss that later.  I have questions that need answering, Mick"

      "Bastard!"  
      "Yes," agreed Omi, "that's exactly what I am.  But you know what? I'm not the one who's killing all the people just to get even more stinking rich"

      "We know you're framing Darrell," said Ran, "We know you're the one behind the virus.  We know you plan on taking over that company for cheap stocks.  We know you intend to release the cure for an orchestrated outbreak and become even more rich.  All we want from you, Madden, is how you did it and where the cure is"

      "These are all assumptions--!"

      "Save the lies," snapped Omi, "People are dying.  And even more will, if you don't help us end this madness now.  You know what happens when a virus is released, Madden? It only takes awhile before it mutates.  Which means, anytime now, your fake virus can become airborne and turn into the real thing.  Which means we'll have an outbreak on our hands for which your original cure won't work.  You're a businessman, Madden.  But you're no rocket scientist"

      Madden paled noticeably.  "What?"

      "You got family?" Omi continued ruthlessly, "They live in this country? Then I suggest you think about what we're saying really, really hard"

      Madden's face was a mixture of anger and disbelief.  But it was fear that eventually got the best of him.  His head hung low as he began to explain.

      "I got the virus from a man who was fired from the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases in Maryland," he began, "He had a falling away with a superior and stole some Level 4 specimens.  Biological Weapons.  He knew I've been trying to acquire Darrell Pharmaceuticals for some time now; it's become an obsession for me, to finally take my old rival down.  He gave me the idea, and I paid him well for it.

      "He's in the Bahamas now or some such place," he continued, "The plan was going well.  I had my people on the brink of a cure, so we began infecting the victims through exposure with needles, just a prick on the street, things they don't even notice.  Then I heard this CDC hotshot Gardener beating me to the punch, trying to get a cure ahead of me using connections even I've never heard of.

      "I decided I should expand the conspiracy," he said, "Looked for a weak link and found it in Satoru, Izumida's jealous assistant.  He took a sample of the good doctor's work, sabotaged the rest and brought the good ones to America to me.  The mutagen… the mutagen was Satoru's personal insult to the doctor"

      "Where's the cure?" asked Ran.

      "It's in my lab," said Madden, "a lab in Dallas"

      Ran nodded and turned to Mabel, who was standing on a corner of the room.  "You got all that?"

      "Yup," she said with a grin, turning off a recorder, "this is going straight to the cops"

      Madden's eyes widened.  "You wouldn't--"

      "People are dead, you fucker," Mabel said, "you're going to pay"

      Omi picked up his cell phone and dialed Race's number.  "Race! Your cure is in Dallas"  
      "Bad break, kid," Race said quietly, "It's already gone airborne"

      "What?" Omi exclaimed, looking at Ran with wide eyes.  "When did you find out?"

      "Just a few hours ago," Race replied tiredly, "God.  I've got a whole emergency room quarantined in Hawaii, and no one else is coming in reporting possible infection.  But we've got new cases springing up in Atlanta, so another quarantine"

      "We just got the cure!" Omi whispered, disbelieving that fate would do this to them.

      "I'll have a team pick it up immediately," said Race, "Just in case we get lucky and the antidote works even in the mutated virus.  You never know.  Omi…That's not the worst part," Race said quietly, "I don't want to have to be the one to tell you this, but the second case reported in Atlanta is Ken"

      Omi hung up and looked at Ran's expectant face.

Atlanta, Georgia

      Yoji ran his hands through his hair as he watched Ken from behind the glass windows that separated him from the quarantined ward.  It only held a few occupants: the man from the park, Ken, and a kid who had come too close.

      Ken was sitting beside the child, whose youth made him even more vulnerable against the assault of the virus.

      From what the doctors deduced, the man Ken had found was already on Day Three of the theoretical Five Days before death from infection.  The child, though just on the first day, fared no better because of his age and younger built.  Of the three, Ken had the greatest chance of survival, being at the very peak of his health.

      "We'll be okay," Ken told the young boy, rubbing his back after a coughing spell, "Told you to back off from the sick man"

      Yoji heard the exchange from behind the glass door, for the room was rightfully monitored.  He stifled a laugh at Ken, scolding a careless child at a time like this.  It was precisely what Yoji wanted to do to a careless Ken.

      "This is all my fault," he said shakily, trying it on for size and felt miserable that it fit well.  "I shouldn't have let that damn troublemaker out of my sight…"

      "What are you mumbling about?" Omi asked tiredly, coming over behind Yoji.

      "Nothing," the blonde replied quickly, "Look, guys! We can watch Ken die… live!"

      "Don't talk that way," Omi said softly, waving into the room.  Ken saw him through the glass and waved back.

      "We got the cure from Madden," said Omi, "It will be here in less than an hour, not that it would do any good.  The cure was for the original strain, but we're not ruling out miracles"

      Yoji nodded, turning away from the window and heading for a chair in the waiting area.  

      "God, what a mess," he mumbled, rubbing his face.

      "You look tired," Omi commented, sitting beside him.  Ran stayed by the glass window to look in on Ken and the child.

      "This is--"

      "All your fault?" filled in Omi irritably, "Maybe the world doesn't revolve around you, Kudo"

      "Now you're being snide," snorted Yoji, but smiled, "We'll get out of this, won't we?"

      "I should think so," said Omi determinedly, "I don't think any of us have exhausted our nine lives yet"

      Race arrived with the antidote to the original strain.  As a precaution, samples have been decimated to all parts of the country to treat whomever may be a late addition to those who have been infected by the original virus.  And, just to see if they got lucky, the medicine was also used to those who have been infected by the new strain in Hawaii and Atlanta.

      But as the day progressed and dusk arrived, the victims in Hawaii were reported to have steadily gotten worse, just as the man in Atlanta who was entering into the fatal stages of Day Four.

      But there was also a multitude of things they could be thankful for: that no other cases have been reported-- meaning, the virus has been contained, at least for the time being, and that the victims of the original strain were on the way to being stable.  Also, that Madden was in the custody of the police, Satoru had also been arrested, and Madden's source of the virus from the Bahamas.  The entire conglomerate was also in very deep investigation over who else is part of the plan.

      The big players were out of the game.  

      But the only battle Weiß was concerned with now, was the small war inside the glass-encased room where their friend was fighting for his life, even as he awaited his death.

      "Useless," Izumida hissed at the cure he had created just days before, "Too late"

      Ran watched the doctor-- human again, now, after working on some chemicals, pace around the portable lab.  He returned to find the doctor back to his old self, when Yoji asked him to check on their hidden little monster.

      "We need a new cure," Ran said, "We need it in three days"

      Ran berated himself for not considering the man in Day Four.  His world had narrowed down to Ken and the kid.  Earlier, when he had first seen his teammate, the only sign that he had been infected was his pale complexion.  Just before leaving the hospital today, Ran found out that Ken was already hemorrhaging under the skin, and that his temperature was rising.

      "I know, I know," Izumida said, "I know the sequence will just come to me.  I know it.  If I can cause a mutation in the antidote too…"

      The words were jumbled in Ran's mind.  A lot of terms he couldn't begin to understand.  All he could do was sit there and hope.

      Ken opened his eyes blearily.

      There were no windows here, save for the one where people peered into his life (or death, whatever, same thing now).

      He remembered certain times in his childhood when he woke up feeling kind of like this too.  As if your body was so heavy.  And it was hot and cold all at once, with sweat all over you.  His head was pounding, he was suddenly acutely aware, and it was noticeably harder to breathe now than it was just yesterday.

      Day Two, he told himself quietly.  It will only get worse…

      With an effort, he turned his head to look at the man who had infected him in the first place.  The bed was gone.  So was the man.

      His eyes welled, but he kept himself together.

      He turned his head the other way.

      The kid was still there.  Good.

      My friends will find a cure for us, he vowed.

      Omi looked away from the observation window to look at Race Gardner, who went straight to the hospital after cleaning up the situation.

      "It's contained," he said with a tired smile, "thank God for small blessings"

      "Of course," Omi nodded, "He's in Day Two, Race.  What am I looking at?"  
      "Rise to high temperatures and beginning of internal bleeding in vital organs," said Race, "but not lethal yet.  Tomorrow… tomorrow you start to worry.  For now, we find a cure, okay?"

      "Okay"

      Ran looked through the glass at Ken, who was again sitting by the sick boy.  The kid's condition had worsened considerably, and he was noticeably weaker and could no longer breathe on his own.

      Ken, knowing Ran was watching, looked up at the redhead with sorrowful eyes.  The kid wasn't going to last…

      Omi had taken over keeping Izumida company.  Yoji was taking a nap on a nearby couch.  

      Ran's fists clenched as he watched Ken hunch over and unsuccessfully try to stifle a coughing spell.  Blood spattered on his hands and on the white sheets and on the white floor.

      Ken wasn't going to last either…

      Day Three.

      Ken opened his eyes.  It felt like a Herculean task.  Everything hurt.  Maybe dying wouldn't be so bad after all.

      Someone was leaning over him.  It was Yoji, underneath that puffy biohazard suit that made him look like an astronaut.

      "Yoj…" he croaked, grinning.  This was the nearest he's been to any of his friends in days.

      "Hey, Kenken," Yoji said, his voice, though filtered and automated-sounding, was a blessing to Ken's ears.

      "How's everyone?"  
      "Worrying about you"

      Ken snorted, then curled over and started to cough.  Yoji hesitantly rubbed him on the back.

      This is pathetic, the older man thought bitterly.  The game was over and won.  But no…Ken had to go sink his nose into trouble.  

      "I'm sorry," Yoji said softly.

      "Why?" Ken asked with a grin, wiping blood and drool from his chin with the back of his hand, "Am I dead yet?"  
      Yoji laughed half-heartedly.  

      The two men fell into a comfortable silence, Yoji just looking at Ken with fondness and worry.  More worry, of course.  He looked absolutely gray in the parts where his skin wasn't either red or broken, bleeding into the white covers.  He was enveloped in a cold sweat where his flesh didn't burn in a fever.  His arms looked like a mess, a map of bruises and trails of needles where they started to attach him into IV's yesterday.  It was a relief that his respiratory functions were still going strong, though the coughing had worsened and his breathing was getting heavier.

      What he had said just days ago, We can watch Ken die… LIVE! Seemed not so unrealistic now, as he was made a spectator to his friend's gradual and horrid demise.

      "I want to sit up," Ken grunted, irritated that he would have to strain to look up at Yoji.

      The older man nodded and pressed a button that had the bed raising slowly, then stopped it when they met relatively eye-to-eye.

      "What's the situation?" Ken asked, huffing a little at the minor exertion.

      "The virus is contained," Yoji answered, "The only problem now is to look for a cure to the naughty people who can't keep their hands to themselves"

      "Oh, funny"

      Yoji smirked at him.

      "That's good," Ken said quietly, sincerely.  "The rest of the kids who were with us?"

      "They're absolutely fine," Yoji said, a little edgily, "But just in case, I think the good doctor will be coming up with a vaccine after he finds the cure"

      "If he finds a cure," pointed out Ken.

      "After," insisted Yoji quickly, then decided to change the subject, "He's human again, thank God.  Anyway, loose ends have been tied, the culprits caught.  Now it's just you" 

      "And the child--" Ken said, then cut himself off when he looked to the other side of his bed, where the kid was supposed to be, and found it empty.

      He turned his horrified gaze to Yoji.

      "He succumbed early this morning," Yoji said softly, "They tried to revive him, but…"

      "I didn't even know…" said Ken shakily.

      "You couldn't have," said Yoji, "You were in a deep sleep"

      "I should have been there for him," Ken's eyes watered, as his chest heaved in suppressed sobs.  His weakened body protested, bringing an onslaught of a coughing spell that made Yoji's blood turn cold.

      "Ken…"

      The younger man covered his eyes with his hands, as he cried and coughed and struggled to breathe.

      "Ken…" Yoji said again, starting to panic.  Where are those goddamn doctors?!

      "Take it easy," Yoji said softly as he reached out to envelop his friend into a hug, trying to reassure both of them.  

      He felt Ken shake against him, crying and convulsing in his matched anguish of soul and body.

      Yoji hated the suit that separated them.  He hated the world that separated them.  He hated the parallel battles that they fought, and he hated his helplessness in aiding his young teammate.

      The only reason the doctors were lax in his insistence to visit Ken (as civilians weren't usually allowed into biohazard suits and be next to their ailing loved-ones), was the loss of the child.  They had, as Yoji did, a solid knowledge that Ken would need someone nearby when he found out.

      "Calm down," Yoji said soothingly, "you'll make yourself even more sick, Kenken.  I'm here.  I'm here.  We'll get out of this.  We'll find your cure.  Everything will be okay"

      A distinct pause hung in the air, misplaced and tense.

      Ken pulled away from Yoji and looked him deep in the eye.  "Funny," he said tiredly, sinking back into bed, "That's exactly what I told that kid.  And now he's dead"

      Day Four.

      The countdown continues.

      Ran touched the glass that separated him and Ken, who was now the only patient left in the room.

      People from the hospital looked in on him with sorry little glances, as if he was dead already.  They were no longer counting on finding a cure in time.  It irritated the hell out of Ran.  He didn't need nor want that kind of useless sympathy.

      "They've placed him on life support, now," Yoji said, coming up beside him.  It had been Yoji who refused to leave the hospital premises, Ran noted, just as it had been Yoji who had been the only one to sweet-talk his way into actually getting inside the room.

      "I can see," Ran said sternly.

      "The cure?" asked Yoji.

      "Coming along slowly," Ran winced.

      "If it's anymore slow we wouldn't need it anymore, now would we?" Yoji snapped, running his hands through his hair, "Shit"

      "Izumida says," Ran informed, "That there's something missing, he just couldn't put his finger on it"

      "I have an idea what's missing"

      Ran and Yoji looked to Race, who was just approaching them.

      "What's missing?" asked Ran.

      "I think the doctor needs an assistant," said Race, "Worked before.  What have we got to lose?"  
      "What have we got to lose?" seethed Yoji, "Satoru, if he's the one you'll be suggesting and I'm pretty sure that's the case because we both know the doctor is paranoid and not-so trusting nor understanding of Westerners, only SABOTAGED the last cure!"

      Ran looked at Race's stern face, studying the reasons backing the suggestion with those intent eyes.

      "Scientists are interesting people," pointed out Race, "A lot of them are motivated by challenge.  Izumida is used to working with an assistant.  An assistant who will be eager to lend his expertise, because he will be flattered that we think he can help-- and, if you recall, his weakness had been pride and jealousy in the first place.  And besides, if the ultimatum is aid or imprisonment… well, he'll hear us out"

      "Would Izumida want to work with him?" pointed out Yoji.

      "A wise man gets help where he can," said Ran, "I accept this option.  It's better than standing around and doing nothing"

      "Great," said Race, "We break him out of prison tonight"

      Yoji and Ran turned to him with disbelieving expressions.

      "Okay, just kidding," he said quickly, "It was a hyperbole.  I meant to say we can requisition his services tonight"

      Ran nodded, then looked at Yoji intently.  "Someone has to remain here with Ken.  Omi's with Izumida.  And since you're the only one who is allowed inside…"

      "I'll stay," Yoji said at once.  He wanted to say so before, but it seems Ran's knowledge of him is already pretty acute, "It's my fault anyway--"  
      "Don't be a fool," Ran snapped as he started to walk away, side by side with Gardner purposefully.

  
Dallas

      It was a small cell, because Satoru was yet to be moved to the bigger prisons, pending a trial as well as talks with the Japanese Ambassador on the situation.

      Race and Ran were led inside the sparsely furnished area, and the entrance was shut behind them.  Satoru Ogawa looked at the two men defiantly.  He was young, Ran noted, and at this point, very rebellious and uncooperative.

      "You've been busted," Race said flatly.  On the plane here, he and Ran had discussed that nothing would be more effective than a blunt negotiation.

      "Obviously," Satoru said sarcastically, motioning vaguely to his surroundings, "But apparently, I have some wild cards too.  What do you want with me?"  
      "You know the virus has mutated," said Ran, "you know that the original cure won't work on it.  You know that Dr. Izumida is searching for another"

      "Yeah, so?"

      "We think," said Race, "that you have the perfect credentials to speed up this search by aiding him"

      --

      Satoru's jaws hit the floor.

      "Excuse me?"  
      "We think," Race said again patiently, "that you have the--"

      "I know, I know, I heard!" said Satoru, "What I mean to say is that… Me? Look at me, for crying out loud, I'm in jail.  I sold out, I sabotaged.  I couldn't possibly--!"

      "You can't?" asked Ran, "Or you won't?"  
      "Doesn't matter!" said Satoru, "I'm not… I'm not…"

      "Everyone deserves a second chance, kid," said Race, "If this succeeds, we can't promise you amnesty.  But we can promise… retribution.  All you have to say, is Yes."

Atlanta, Georgia

      "NO!" hollered the Doctor, upon setting eyes on Satoru Ogawa for the first time since leaving Japan.  The younger scientist cringed in embarrassment and fury.  He stood defiantly in between Race and Ran, who had ditched their escort outside, as if the scrawny younger man could hold a candle to the trained men.

      "How are you progressing, Doctor?" asked Race wryly, "I'd say, swallow it and get help where you can"

      Izumida glared at Race, then at Ran, then at Omi who stood by innocently, and finally settling on Satoru.  

      "Will you sabotage me again?" he asked.

      "Not unless you tempt me," said the stubborn, high-prided youth.

      The doctor snorted, then started giving him rapid-fire instructions, which he immediately followed.

      Yoji felt miserable as his eyes locked into Ken's bleary, unfocused gaze.  The crusty eyes just opened, and seemed to seek his own.  Yoji made it a point to always be awake whenever Ken drifted to consciousness.

      "Day five," Ken whispered, "Few more…hours"

      "Don't give up," Yoji urged from his biohazard suit, "They're progressing really, really well"

      "So am I," Ken chuckled, coughing weakly.  Blood sputtered from his cracked lips, and Yoji wiped at them with his glove.  "It'll be… okay," he sighed, "Eventually"

      In either death, or recovery, Yoji surmised.  He prayed it would be the latter.

      Ken's eyes rolled back, and he started to shudder, then convulse.

      "Ken!" Yoji yelled, hands flailing, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do.  The heart monitor was erratic.  The machines around him erupted in frantic sounds that suddenly had suit-encased crew pushing him aside as they took over the room.

      "Don't die!" Yoji begged from his obscure corner, "Don't die!"

      Omi, Race and Ran were outside the portable lab, leaving the doctor, Satoru, and one inconspicuous guard behind inside, to prevent possible trouble between the two doctors, who hardly needed him around.  Omi, Race and Ran stepped out of the lab because they were only getting in the way of the well-synchronized duo.

      The fact that they disliked each other was a null factor-- they had a mutual fascination for science, and undoubted skill.  The search for a cure was looking more and more promising.

      Which was just as well, since it was already Day Five.  Ken was the only living man who had been infected with the mutated virus left.  Everyone else had died out.  His survival was relevant, not only in that he was Weiß and he had friends in high places, but also because the antibodies he creates would be vital in creating a vaccine.

      None of the three men outside, or their trained escorts slept.  The moment that cure comes out, the hospital was the next stop, and they needed a clear, traffic-less path getting there.

      Omi dialed Yoji's number to get an update on Ken, but no one was answering his phone.  Omi hung up and turned to Race and Ran, who were looking at him.

      "He'd call if anything was wrong, right?" asked Omi.

      Ran just nodded.  He'd give a lot to be next to Ken right now.  But none of those included the fact that he would be much more useful here, in delivering the cure the moment it is discovered.

      Please hurry, Ran thought silently.  It hadn't been a prayer, but as close to one as he'd ever had in years.

      They've succeeded in stabilizing him.

      The doctors and nurses settled Ken in, and exited the room only after turning to Yoji, who was shaking with relief at the close call, and fear at others that would be coming in the near future. 

      He breathed heavily, cowering in his corner as he looked at Ken's deathly face.  He stepped forward as Ken's eyes opened slowly.

      "Sorry 'bout that," Ken said, so softly Yoji had to lean close.

      "It's okay," Yoji said lightly, "As long as you don't do it again, you asshole"

      But he didn't laugh, as Yoji had hoped he would.

      Ken's voice was raspy, almost soundlessly weak by now, almost just mouthed.

      "Don't think I could," he said, eyelids starting to close.

      Yoji's chest tightened in fear, "Ken… Ken!"

      "So tired," he murmured.

      "No…" Yoji said, his voice rising, "You are not doing this to me! Ken! Ken, damn it!"

      In his frustration, he started to unzip his suit, started to remove his mask.  The sounds caught Ken's wavering attention.  His eyes opened as wide as his strength allowed.

      "What are you doing?" he asked shakily, his frail hand reaching for Yoji's in a vain effort to try and stop him.

      "There!" Yoji said triumphantly, tossing the mask to the floor, quickly followed by the gloves.  Flesh to flesh now, after to long, he held Ken's hand.

      "What did you do…?" Ken said weakly, anguished as tears cascaded down his cheeks, "What did you do…"  
      "Nothing," Yoji said lightly, feeling liberated not only from the oppressive suit, but also in that Ken was wide awake now, and would definitely stay that way as long as he was near.

      Yoji's hand tightened against Ken's.  The younger man's free one reached, aching to touch his face.

      "They'll find the cure, Ken," said Yoji, and watched as the other man smiled a little at his unfiltered voice, "See how confident I am? I took off the protection because I know they'll find the cure in time.  I'm absolutely sure of it"

      "You're a good liar," Ken said, his hand dropping down on the bed, "Always have been"

      "I wouldn't lie about this," said Yoji with a rakish grin.

      Actually, he would.  But not this time.

      He wouldn't allow it to be a lie.

      The car stopped right on the rotunda of the hospital, escorted in front and at the back by policemen who had cleared a path through traffic to get the cure to the hospital as quickly as possible.

      Omi had tried to call Yoji on the phone to say they were on their way, but apparently, the blonde was busy and probably with Ken in a suit, so he was unable to answer.  

      Omi, Race, Ran, Izumida and Satoru ditched their police escorts on the ground floor, to be replaced by doctors and nurses.

      The entire group headed for the quarantined area…

      "YOJI!" Omi said in a scolding tone that was so loud the blonde actually heard it from beyond the glass.

      He grinned sheepishly at the arriving group.

      The doctors and nurses who were on standby and had witnessed Yoji's actions looked at the group with relief and exasperation.

      Ran just shook his head in dismay, as Izumida and some doctors went into the anteroom to don the protective suits before going into the negatively pressurized room.

      He, Race, Omi and Satoru stood by the observation area to look at the proceedings.

      "What's happening?" Ken murmured, but Yoji just squeezed his hand in reply, as he was pulled aside gently, to stand in yet another corner as the group surrounded Ken's bed.

      The cure was in a clear plastic bag that they had connected to the IV drip, to course through Ken's veins and do its magic.

      Yoji breathed in relief.  It seemed to be acting quickly and surely, because by the time the doctors backed away from Ken and focused their irritated attention to him, Yoji had a fleeting glance at the peacefully sleeping brunette.

      Yoji was attached to the drip for five hours before he was cleared of the disease, as well as immunized by his exposure to it.  Ken, who was still immersed in a deep, healing sleep, was set for two or three more doses before complete recovery.

      This was why, probably out of some form of Vengeance, the samples that would be used to create the immediate vaccines were taken from Yoji instead.

      These vaccines were proven effective in a few hours time, and quickly made use of by his friends, as well as the hospital and sanitation personnel.  Soon, he knew, the vaccine would make its way around the world.

      Ken was no longer alone in the quarantine area.  Yoji's bed was moved in, though at the moment he was sitting on a chair by Ken's bed.  There was no longer need for protective clothing.  Ran and Omi were in the room, as were Race, Izumida and Satoru who had stayed to overlook their handiwork.

      At last, after a seeming eternity of waiting, Ken opened his eyes. And looked straight up at Yoji's beaming face.

      "You're okay now," Yoji told him softly, and Ken watched as other welcome faces hovered over his.

      "Thought so," he said, licking his dry lips, "But you all look like shit…"

      "It's because of you--" Yoji was saying, but Ken had already fallen asleep again.

      Outside the decontamination chamber, Race and Ran stood with Izumida, Satoru and some police officers who have come to take him back.

      "Great work, doctors," Race said, as he and Ran shook the men's hands jovially.

      Izumida nodded, but his eyes were focused on Satoru, who was being handcuffed.

      "You're very good," he told his assistant tightly.

      The praise had been… rare, at best.  It made the younger man's eyes brighten, and his cheeks flush.

      But instead, he said, "Now you're telling me," wryly.

      The doctor barked a laugh, "When you get out, look for me"

      "I just might take you up on that," said Satoru with a wink, as he was escorted out of the premises.

      Omi looked at his bags miserably.

      He will definitely be coming home to Japan with more than he had when he left.  Like all journeys.

      The airport was bound to charge for the extra weight, but he could hardly leave anything behind.  He had, like any normal human being, amassed a whole lot of things after spending more than a whole month in America.

      When the virus was finally purged out of his system, Ken spent weeks recuperating in the hospital, receiving much-needed treatment for his damaged organs.  His outlook, according to the doctors, was excellent, but he needed time.  Tissue regeneration could not be rushed, no matter how stubborn the patient… and Ken was a handful.

      With their friend out of danger, Race Gardner took them around, showed them the sights.  Omi guiltily thought that it felt like a vacation.  A month-long vacation.

      Ken was up and about now, though not quite up-to-par with his old physique.  He was noticeably thinner, somewhat slower still.  But he was well enough to be allowed transfer to a hospital in Tokyo, closer to home.  And in his face was a liveliness that could not be denied.

      "Ready?" Ran asked, stopping by Omi's door.

      The younger man nodded, and accepted Ran's silent offer of help.  The only sign that he disapproved of how much Omi had packed was a grunt of effort.

      Race was nowhere to be seen, and had said he was going to be in Africa.  Ran thought it was an interesting and hectic job, but more than anything, he saw that the other man was hesitant over goodbye's.

      "See 'ya around," Race had said, "You can use my house as long as you like, just leave the keys under my pot of poison ivy.  Tell Manx I said Hi"

      He left with a handshake.  Ran wondered if their paths would ever cross again.

      Ran and Omi piled into the car, which Cass was driving.  Mabel and Janine were also there, and the trio from Coffee Paradiso had left their shop closed to bring the Japanese to the airport.

      "Here we go," said Cass, heading for the hospital where Ken, Yoji and Izumida would be waiting for their ride home.

      Ken was sitting on a wheelchair by the rotunda, with Yoji standing over him and a multitude of bags.  Izumida was with them also, as the trio awaited for the car that would take them to the airport.

      "Remember," Ken's doctor said, "NO heavy physical activities.  Absolutely nothing.  When you get to the airport, request for a wheelchair, for crying out loud, don't even try to walk around there, all right?"  
      "Got it," Ken said, genuinely chipper over going home, "Thanks doc.  I'll behave, I promise"

      The doctor looked at him skeptically, then sighed in resignation.  To Ken's consternation, his head was patted, as if he were a naughty little boy, before the doctor walked away.

      "I don't blame him," Yoji said good-naturedly.

      Ken smiled, shook his head in amusement before he changed the topic.  "Yoji…"

      "What?"  
      "You took of your mask to keep me awake"

      "Yeah, so?"  
      "There hadn't been a cure yet," said Ken tightly, "but you were willing to risk…"

      "It was nothing"

      "It meant everything to me," Ken said, "At the time"

      --

      "So it did"

      "What I wanted to say," Ken continued, "is thank you.  Baka"

      Yoji chuckled, and barely suppressed the same urge to ruffle Ken's hair.

      The minivan pulled over in front of them.

      "We're going home," Ken said brightly.  Yoji had to physically restrain him from getting up on his own.

THE END

April 12, 2001

NOTES:

If the fic should seem familiar, it had once been called "Ground Zero," before 9/11.  It pretty much means where a storm hits the hardest, so I used "Eye of the Storm" as its new title (which, in opposite, is actually where a storm is most calm).  I changed the title because I didn't feel like my story merited any association with the events of 9/11, with all of its tragedies and its great heroes from the ashes.


End file.
